a rueful repertoireclawed, insect wordscrawl their way along the page,rifting through the waves of white,freeing buoys of emotion to fall adriftthough they become chained again at dawn.sunsetlit, eyes afire in an oceanof passion, i await for avarice to die;each crime a tiny tongue of water to lapat vicious burning valiant hope, and weaken it--bring tsunamis to our shoresand help drown the poisoned souls.birthed in soft night,i long for hatred to wriggle out of your pale pores,each sparkle on moonsoaked salty skin a star of innocence,a gentle heat, a steaming mist, a galaxy full ofpotential; i grasp at the surface of the seaand the ocean reclaims me.
paranoialike a blink and snapit all falls apart--the far-away streetlights bloom in the nightand mist rolls in on soft, silent toes.aghast, darkly encircled eyes fill your vision withan eerie green fire, speaking of untold trauma occurringonly in the inky depths of midnight.you think, distinctly,human.but a howl hurricanes through the shadowed navy,and cold glass palms itself against your fingers,pondering, wandering thoughts permeate through psychic corridors,perhaps, they are animal, or worse maybe your imagination whispersnonexistent and surreal.fearfully focused;you're not alone.
art-worldget out of my art-world--for you are full of hatred and misanthropyand you don't belong here.in this galaxy full of color and light,of all-unconditional, and love, and acceptance.of anything-goes, and contradictive, conceptualblack-white-gray beauty; imperfectionof the perfect kind, in the purest creative form,deviated of only life itself.but saying you don't belong heregoes against the unwritten law-moral-anarchist codeof all the art-world ideas. i discriminatebecause i am afraid.i am afraid you will ruin my art-world.just like you've blackly tainted every canvas you've glanced at;just as you have shadowedly scorned each snapshotand snickered at skits,taken the light from where you were supposed to seethe dark mystery...of the art-world.when liquid fire is spat,fountained forth in a frothof passionate word-play and scripture and story,you eat it and chew it and bite it and kill it with yourego-tongue, your promiscuous robot mind.lawyer-blistered hands take the
five ways of looking at winteri.you sneak upon thy bodies,swipe divine honey breath;until thee are barely breathingand thine cold heart, near death.ii.darkness is often sewn in light;and in light, darkness willingly grows,for in darkness, light is reaped;and in night, often white is sowed.iii.when i speak, it's not just meit's a thousand others who have spoken and heard,who have listlessly breathed and broken the world;you are me and i am we.iv.my feet are traversedwith the brown of the eartheach summer, always;while the winter softens them with flakes of white.with the first northern Virginian snow that's stuck and shed--my eyes close, my blood is bled.v.new hope is brought in the small angel flakes;they glow and glimmer in their white naked beauty,virgins to the world, taking a new journey.
Dependencecontorted control of society,upon deaf earswise words will not be heard;twisted snake scales upon your fingers,as though they will distract usfrom your kiss of poison--defiant death, my sweet,over subdued slaughteris vastly morea cry for freedom.whilst shackles snicker,closing sleeve-hearted wrists,they'll plug your ears,tape up your nose andclamp down your teeth with merciless slander ropes;but, they will make you watch the atrocitiesas you whimper and struggle.they will shush the innocent to sleepand murder the guilty;until no one is left to mark up your landscapewith war, pestilence, and disease,leaving ugly red lines in the hills like scars;hearts abandoned and sewed up no longer in cottonbut in steel wool.as it scratches deeper like wet kittens,the thinner your breath will come,the thicker the corruption in your blood,until the only thing ringing out revolutionis silence.
11:14there's no comparison for you,other thanyou act like a committed crime;rule breaking, austere,something that consumes society with such an animalisticcrunch and snap and bitethat they can't help but be attracted to your revilementand condemnation.your eyes are archaic,voice visceral,and the way your fingers even softly stroke minespeak of a devilish grinning demon inside that black, night-soul of yours,divinely gorgeous, and in each moment thatyou denounced me, you vilified me,you berated and abused and raped deceptive society,your eyes were flooded with dark lust for control.while you become villianized,and demonized,fact still remains:the devil's tongue is always more temptingthan the muted whisper of an angel.rage glistens in the cusp of your pupils,and in your irises, a storming city dies;burning agony twitches in your never-ending mercilessness--because you cannot spell dangerouswithout anger.
3.The Grass is Always Greener...she has everything,shining and richly adorned;yet is not happy.she doesn't have much,raggedly singing, hungry eyedshe dances at night.they live different,one burns, precious fire, warmth, love;one gives icy smiles.one dirty, one clean;i watch, because they are bothsweetly beautiful.maybe one day, theywill open each other's eyesand then laugh always.
2. DreamingThe night-flowers have bees above themand they buzz lazily, so careless,twirling around a greening stem;even though their fuzz is a mess.Wolves howl at the moonand the snow blossoms around fluffy paws,Sleeping time is coming soon;yellow eyes close just because.Everything is at peace,slowly becoming evening with dark,and as all noise begins to cease,fireflies start to spark.So sleep, darling, sleepand hushabye your lips,in your head, counting sheepand away will go the toughest of grips.As you curl into warm blankets, neverspeak a cry,dreams will lift you aloft, and into them, you fly.